


Frederick Chilton isn't doing so great after getting shot in the face

by Orobek



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Head Injury, POV Original Female Character, Seizures, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orobek/pseuds/Orobek
Summary: Incomplete. May add more later.Takes place shortly after Frederick is released from the hospital, having for the most part recovered from his injuries inflicted by Miriam Lass. Basically just an excuse for whump.
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Frederick Chilton isn't doing so great after getting shot in the face

It was 10:56 pm on a cold Friday evening. Rain misted from the blackened sky, gradually picking up to a drizzle. Frederick had attended a meeting at the Weller’s institute for Neurology and Neuroscience, with a neurology research group currently collaborating on some projects with the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He probably shouldn’t have gone. There were other doctors at the BSHCI who were more than willing to take a leadership role in this project. But what should happen if Frederick let his intellectual authority slip? Even as he recovered from his injuries, he knew a few names at his institution eyeballing the Director position. Jameson, for one. Maybe even Imogen Harper, if she batted her eyelashes at all the right dullards. Imogen Harpy, Frederick thought bitterly. He would not let them drive him out. He would not be made irrelevant.  
The street lights reflected harshly on the wet asphalt, and Frederick had to squint to protect his remaining eye. He grimaced as his headache dazzled his senses. The headache he had had from the moment he left his hospital bed. The kind of headache that only a shot to the face could produce, and aspirin could not cure. It didn’t help that the bullet’s exit has done extensive damage to the muscles and tissue in the back of his neck. On a bad day it felt like it was made of stone, and the vertebrae were grinding each other to dust as he turned his head. Frederick hissed at the assault on his nerves as he moved unsteadily from Weller Institute’s front doors to his car, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Doctor Chilton?”, a voice called distantly. 

He almost didn’t hear it. From the contrasting volume, he realized the sound of the gunshot had been ringing in his ears. He slowly searched for the source of the call, trying not to strain his neck.

It was Dr. Lee Brooke. She was standing at her car, halfway across the parking lot. Hers and his were the only cars there. Why didn’t I see her? I must have walked right past her, he thought. She peeked out from behind a thick set of bangs, which were now quickly flattening to her head in the swelling downpour. Frederick squinted at her - she was saying something.

“Wh- what?”, he stammered.

“I said, what are you doing here at this hour?”, she replied. She scowled at him.

In truth, his meeting at the Weller Institute had been scheduled for 3 pm. Once the meeting had ended, Frederick had locked himself in a bathroom stall to wait out his intensifying headache. Sitting on the lowered toilet seat, he had rested his head in his hands - palms filling his eye sockets and applying steady pressure. He must have fallen asleep, because when he emerged from the men’s washroom, over 7 hours had passed.

“I uh… I had a meeting, Doctor Brooke. Important progress on the BSHCI collaboration”, he intoned as he fumbled in his pockets for his car keys. Why did it have to be Dr. Brooke? The last thing he needed right now was to be hectored by this surly woman. A sweat broke out underneath his scarf and coat, and he began to feel the ground shift beneath him. Were his palms sweating, too? He couldn’t seem to get his keys untangled from the fabric of his coat pocket.

“Not that I don’t want a swaggering villain skulking around my office, Doctor,” she taunted, “but someone might find the hour of your visit a little suspicious. Especially given your penchant for manipulating the subjects of your research.”

He laughed, though a little nervously, “Doctor Brooke, even direct manipulation cannot hope to improve the future of your work”. 

At last he pulled the keyring from his coat pocket. His shaking hand searched fruitlessly for the keyhole in the car door before he dropped his keys to the pavement at his feet. Dr. Brooke’s eyes drilled into the back of Frederick’s head as he crouched to retrieve them -- only to drop them once again. This isn’t right. Frederick felt heat rising up his neck. He tried to take a deep breath, but panic was seizing him. 

**

“Dr. Chilton”, Lee Brookes called, “are you feeling alright?”

He didn’t answer. Or at least, she didn’t think so. The drumming of raindrops had risen in volume. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him respond?  
After dropping his keys twice, his trembling right hand rested flat against his thigh, and began tapping. Breathing heavily, Dr. Frederick Chilton simply stared at his car’s window. Lee knew Dr. Chilton had very recently been released from the hospital following an altercation with the FBI that had left him with a severe head injury…  
In spite of herself, she was suddenly concerned. She circled and approached him from within his line of sight, searching his face for any indications of the problem. Dr. Chilton’s gaze was locked on an undetermined spot. His breathing was understated, but coming in strained little gasps. And his right hand was tap-tap-tapping his upper thigh. 

“Dr. Chilton”, she said as she crept closer, now thoroughly soaked through with rain, “you may not understand me at the moment, but there’s no need to panic. You’re okay,” 

She slowly reached for his trembling arm and placed a hand on the middle of his back. All the venom had left her face and had been replaced with sympathy.

Almost inaudibly he repeated, “okay, okay, okay, okay...”

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling slightly. She waited with him, gently pressing his back and letting him know she was there. They stood together in the rain until eventually his tapping stopped. 

Dr. Chilton blinked, “I - I’m sorry, I don’t... know what that was.”

“That’s alright. Listen, why don’t you come and sit with me in my car?”, she pulled gently at his arm before he nodded and allowed himself to be led. 

Lee helped him into the passenger seat of her little car before joining him. Suddenly realizing the cold of the rain and night, she cranked the heat. 

**

Frederick Chilton sat quietly, listening to the hum of the vehicle. He was no longer sweating in his coat, but the familiar rushing of blood in his ears, the anxious nausea, and enormous vulnerability remained. His face reddened hotly. What was that? Why does this sort of thing need to happen in front of such poor company? She already thinks you’re pathetic, and you need to make yourself look even worse by having a meltdown.

“I think you might have had a seizure back there”, Dr. Brooke cut into Frederick’s stream of thought.


End file.
